


What Lies Beyond the Spruce

by kneesdeepinsaturn



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 19:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kneesdeepinsaturn/pseuds/kneesdeepinsaturn
Summary: Moominvalley has suffered it's worst fallout yet, and it just so happens that you're trapped outside of it with the most animalistic vagabond known in all the land. You really get to see if this pure blood Mumrik is all bark and no bite.





	What Lies Beyond the Spruce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freesha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freesha/gifts).



Dedicated to the wild owo feral themselves, Freesha uwu~

~

It was truly a dreadful sight.

Well, beautiful. But dreadful.

You hugged your fleece sweater closer to you, the thick fabric nearly doing nothing compared to the ice circling around you. Steel toe studded boots kicked at the snowy, hard ground beneath, the familiar and satisfying crunch of the mushy solid collapsing under your foot made you heave out another annoyed breath.

You were stuck.

Again.

This was the third time you had been "ice-d out" of Moominvalley. A tall, tantalizing layer of snow blocking every known entrance into the damned outcropping. And still you had managed to be outside of it every. Single. Time.

You run your open gloved fingers through your hair, feeling the cold sleet merge in with your roots. You couldn't quite remember how you got in the other three times, a memory of your kind not being the best of the sorts. Scrounging to your travel bag, you muster out a homemade contraption, one happily built for you by your father.

He was a tinkerer of sorts, the wild man. He always built you and your mother funky little objects to play around with in the Spring, and then the Summer, even for how short it stayed. It's a shame he couldn't invent something to save his life.

Pushing a few pins and buttons around, you finally pull the parts needed for it out, hastily tucking them together, hatching locks and bending knobs to make sure everything was securely in place. When you were happily satisfied with the splayed out structure, you set over to the towering mound nearly casting a shadow over the path.

At first, you weren't too sure if the wimpy thing would be able to handle the compacted snow, but by your second shovel-twirl-push in, you managed a nice little hole about a golf ball width thick.

Fantastic.

The obvious burdened a thought deep into your mind. One you were hoping to avoid. One you could have avoided if you hadn't have been so distracted in The Forest to begin with. A flimsily built spade with a few metal bits wasn't going to do jack, and it sun was beginning to set. You were stuck with basically nothing. There wasn't a going home to warm bed and fire this time. You had to think of something quick.

Back when you were little, your Father always wanted you to remember one thing.

Do not be afraid of the dark.

"Creatures lay there," you could hear his gravely voice as clear as day. Well, night.

"They prey on fear, Y/N." He really didn't mean to sound as menacing as he did. Those years of smoking did take a toll on his lungs.

With a heave in, he continued.

"When Day's away, The Mumrik's prey. When Night's a flight, The Mumrik's strike." 

"Stay away from the pure bloods, Y/N."

The rolling wind threw you out of your inner thoughts, the breeze seemed to pass right through you like mesh. 

Night was here, and you needed somewhere safe to sleep.


End file.
